


Price, The

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-11-15
Updated: 2000-11-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 05:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11329257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Price, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

The Price by Alison

THE PRICE by Alison

Feedback: yes, please to   
Category: L/B slash  
Rating: NC/17 for m/m relationship  
Disclaimer: not mine, etc  
Archive: Unusual suspects, Basement, Ephemeral, Gossamer: anywhere else just ask  
Note: This arose entirely out of a spoiler I saw for the new LG spinoff, to the effect that Byers' father worked for the Air Force and thought John was wasting his time. My thanks to Surreal for her kind encouragement, without which this would never have seen the light of day.

* * *

John Byers stood on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, looking down the Mall towards the Washington Monument. He was enjoying this brief opportunity to savour the brilliant spring afternoon and the sight of Washington at its best, even though he knew, as most of his fellow citizens milling around him did not, what lay behind the bright shining facade of his capital city. And even though he could hardly spare the time, since his most recent research was reaching a critical stage and he had been reluctant to leave the HQ even for an hour. But one of his contacts had sent an urgent email requesting a meeting on a matter of extreme importance, and he could not refuse.

"Punctual as always, Mr Byers . ." said the voice in his ear, making him spin round and his eyes widen in surprise as he saw his unexpected visitor. Not the voice he had expected, and he found himself looking into the face of C G B Spender, Cancer Man, and almost gagging at the stench of cigarette smoke that came off him.

"Please forgive me for this little deception, Mr Byers, but I hardly thought you would stir from your bolthole to see *me*".

"What do you want" Byers got out.

"Just to deliver a message. Some instructions which you will follow if you are sensible" and he walked to the edge of the platform, looking down the long park as if Byers had not been there or beneath his notice. He got out a cigarette packet and made a show of lighting another, before turning to face Byers.

"You will cease and desist your prying into the Vernon case. If you do not, the circumstances for yourself will be . . . unfortunate."

"What do you mean?"

CSM drew on his cigarette and flicked ash carefully on the front of Byers' jacket. "It would be regrettable, for example, for you personally, would it not, if your parents were to learn the true nature of your relationship with Mr Langly? Your father for one would be extremely . ..embarrassed? And it's hardly the sort of thing a devoted son wants his mother to know about."

Byers could only stare dumbstruck at the loathsome face before him, while Cancer Man took another drag on his cigarette.

"I will give you 24 hours Mr Byers. Then you will give me your word that you will give up your little investigation. Otherwise copies of these photographs will be landing on the doormat of your parents' little retirement nest in the Blue Mountains."

CSM reached into his breast pocket and handed a photograph to Byers. "You can see that although this picture might be quite innocuous, it could be interpreted otherwise."

Byers looked at the picture. He recognised the background, it must have been taken not long ago when he and Langly had managed a rare day out together. They had always been careful to be discreet, but on this occasion, at a computer fair in Boston, they had snatched a precious hour in a local park. Far from home, they had felt it was safe to be together in public for a short while. The picture showed the pair of them, walking together, closely, with Langly's arm draped casually across Byers' shoulders. Their faces were turned together in intimate conversation, and the expression on both their faces was of deep affection and closeness.

"And I think this one provides conclusive evidence" continued Cancer Man, handing over the second photograph. Byers looked at it and felt sick. Later that same afternoon, they had found a secluded part of the park for a brief snatched embrace. The photo, taken with a telephoto lens, showed himself leaning back against a tree holding Langly in a close embrace, kissing hard mouth to mouth and pressing their bodies close together.

"24 hours Mr Byers" and Cancer man exhaled a long breath of cigarette smoke in Byers' face, then turned and walked away, leaving Byers staring at one of the most glorious views in the whole of America, oblivious to it and to the crowds of tourists jostling around him.

*******************************************************

He drove around Washington in a daze, hardly knowing where he was going. Out in the suburbs somewhere he drew into the side of the road and stopped the car; his hands were trembling. Bile rose in his throat, and he fumbled the car door open just in time to throw up in the gutter. He shut his eyes and rested his head on the seat back, and stayed there a long time.

Late in the afternoon he drove back to HQ, still no closer to knowing what to do. Thank God Langly was out: he didn't think he could look him in the eye at the moment. Frohike was bent over a pile of computer parts in the workroom and hardly noticed his return. He flung himself back into his seat and turned on the computer, and tried to get back into what he had been doing. But the computer screen blurred in front of him and all he could hear was Cancer Man's soft sneering tones. "24 hours, Mr Byers."

Around dinner time Langly came back from whatever pursuits he had been following, bouncing in like a boisterous dog, flinging his jacket on one chair and his backpack on another, walking behind John and ruffling his hair, using Frohike's absence as an opportunity to place a quick nibbling kiss on the back of John's neck and breathe in his ear. Byers jumped and flinched away, snapping "For God's sake, Langly!" Hating himself for the hurt expression in Langly's eyes, he mumbled an apology and turned back to the screen.

Langly moved closer, leaning over his shoulder and nuzzling his ear. "Bad day?" John had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself yelling and pushing Langly away.

"Yeah . . . sorry, I don't feel too good."

Langly's immediate concerned expression made John feel even more guilty. "Hey, sorry . . ." and his gentle massaging hands on John's shoulders only brought a tide of misery washing through John. He stumbled to his feet.

"Look, I really don't feel like company . . . I'm going to bed."

"Don't you want any dinner?"

John shook his head, only concerned to get away now before Langly saw how close he was to breaking down. "Just leave me alone, OK?" And he brushed past Langly resolutely not looking at him, and headed in the direction of the bathroom. Might as well make Langly think it was just an upset stomach. But when he got to the bathroom, he retched and retched until he thought he would tear apart.

Later that evening he heard Langly coming to bed, and hastily switched his bedroom light out so that Langly would think he was already asleep. But the door softly opened and he knew Langly was looking in on him. "Johnny?" very quietly, so as not to wake him had he been sleeping. He heard the creak of the floorboards and knew Langly had crossed the room and was looking down on him. Then there was the gentle touch of a hand on his hair, and it took all the resolution he possessed not to open his eyes.

And then there was the click of his bedroom door, and he was alone again.

Morning brought clarity to the realisation which had gradually been forming since Cancer Man left him at the Memorial. He had known from the start that he had only one option. He could not give up Langly; he could not betray his friends and the work they had put their lives into for the last ten years. He could not let Cancer Man win.

The focus of his life for the last ten years had been the truth: he now had to face the truth in his own life.

He had to go and see his parents.

As soon as he heard the others moving about he got up and got dressed, and went out to the work room. Langly and Frohike were having breakfast and watching the early news: they looked round as he came in with expressions of concern. "Hey buddy, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Look - I need to talk to you. Both of you."

At the first mention of Cancer Man he had their undivided attention, and when he came to the part about the picture, Langly drew in a sharp breath, moved forward and held him tight. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He rested his head against Langly's shoulder for a second. "I had to work out what I was going to do."

"Isn't it my business too?"

"Not this part of it. I know what I've got to do. I'm not letting that bastard win. There's only one way round this. I've got to go and tell my parents, before Cancer Man gets to them. I don't want them to hear it from that bastard."

Langly looked into his eyes. "Let me come with you."

"No. It's going to be bad enough. It's best I go on my own. Besides, I need you to carry on here while I'm gone."

Frohike tactfully looked away as Langly drew him close into his arms and kissed him. John gave himself up to the luxury of the embrace. He already knew he was going to have to pay a high price for it.

*************************************************************

Later that morning he drove out through another glorious spring day, westward through the suburbs and out into the rolling Virginia countryside. Westwards towards the mountains and the little country town in the foothills of the Appalachians where his parents had settled for their retirement.

His stomach was churning with apprehension, and he would have given anything to turn round and run back to Washington. But he had faced more danger than this in the past: why was it so difficult to face his father, who he had always idolised but never been able to please. His father had never understood his decision to leave the FCC, never acknowledged or tried to understand what he did now.

How could he explain to his father how his relationship with Langly, so long just his close friend, had become a joy and a fulfilling necessity to him, not just the sex but also the security of having someone he utterly trusted in every way; and that he could never give him up.

He parked under the trees a few steps from his parents' house, and saw with relief that his mother's car was missing. Friday morning; of course, she helped at a charity shop in town. Probably better to face his father on his own.

He walked round the corner of the house towards the back: at this time of day his father was probably reading the paper on the back porch. Yes: there he was, not reading but staring out at the garden. He looked up at his son's footstep and got to his feet as John approached.

He met him with a face like stone, and before John could say a word he hit him hard and accurately in the mouth.

Totally shocked, John stumbled backwards and tripped over a garden chair. Off balance, he fell heavily against the wall and ended up in a heap on the floor. He looked groggily up to see his father standing over him, fists clenched.

All his prepared speeches melted away at the first look at his father's face. It was like he was ten years old again and had been caught the only time he ever played truant. There was a long silence.

Then his father turned away and picked something off the table, as John got to his feet. "I suppose you've come to tell me about *this*. And he threw the photo, the second more intimate photo, at John.

John picked it up and looked at it. "I wanted to tell you myself."

"Oh yes? And instead I have to get these pictures through the mail, of my son acting like a whore with some long haired hippy freak? It's your friend, Langly, isn't it? I suppose you're being blackmailed, or I can't imagine you'd have the gall to come and face me."

"I -"

"All these years I've kept quiet about the mess you've made of your life, about what you do, about your friends, however unsuitable I think they are. Even when it was obvious they were leading you into criminal activity, anti government, unpatriotic actions. And now I find you've been rolling in the dirt with this pervert . . ."

"It's not like that . . ."

"Oh no? And is he the only one? How many are there? How many have there been, John, that you've kept quiet about?

Something snapped inside John. "You want to know how it started? OK, I'll tell you how I got started. The first time was when your friend, Joe Cooper, remember?? took me on one of his camping trips when I was *fourteen*? You want to know what he did to me? And what he said he'd do if I tried to tell anyone? And -"

What John was going to say next was cut off as his father lashed out again in a savage backhander across his cheek, John crashed back against the wall again, and he felt blood trickle down his face as his father's ring cut him across the cheekbone.

"Why should I believe anything you say, you lying little shit? How do I know everything you've told me hasn't been a lie?"

His father's voice went on and on, a tirade of abuse and anger, every word burning itself into John's memory. He turned away. "Dad, I'm sorry -"

"I want you to go now John. I want you to go now before your mother comes back. You can leave it to me to think of something to tell her. And I don't want to see you in this house ever again."

John looked at his father and knew there was nothing more to say. He turned and left, but by the time he got to the car he could hardly see for tears.

*************************************************

By 6 pm Langly was already fidgeting. John hadn't called.

"He should be back by now. He'd have called, if he was staying with his parents and everything was OK."

Frohike looked at him sympathetically. "I know. It's early yet. We'll give him till ten pm. Then we'll call Mulder."

Langly nodded, but his eyes went back to the clock.

It was twenty minutes short of the deadline when the door lock rattled and Byers walked back in. Langly looked up, smiling in relief, but his expression turned to horror as he saw his friend's face. Byers' cheek was disfigured with a huge bruise and black eye, and his lip was swollen. It looked as if someone had given him a bad beating.

"My God, what happened?"

Byers bit his lip, and winced as he touched the sensitive bruise. "My dad . . "

Langly swallowed hard to try to dispel the knot of rage that was forming in his throat. "Your own father did this to you?"

Langly moved forward until he was facing John, and raised his hand to gently touch the livid bruise on his cheek. His eyes were dark with anger.

"God, John . . ."

"I don't want to talk about it, OK? And Byers walked off towards his own room. Langly made to follow, but was stopped by Frohike's hand on his arm.

"Let it go for now, Langly. He probably needs some time alone."

But Langly followed down the corridor to John's room, but paused outside and knocked. "Is there anything I can get you?"

John opened the door. He had taken off his jacket and shirt, and Langly saw with another stab of anger that his ribs were badly bruised. "No thanks. Look Langly . . . I just want to get some rest. I'm tired, I couldn't sleep last night. And I hurt."

"But . . ."

"I've dealt with it, OK? What my father thinks doesn't matter any more. It isn't going to change anything between you and me. We'll talk about it in the morning."

Langly smiled and reached out again to touch John's face. "OK. But call if you need me?"

"Yeah. See you in the morning."

*************************************************************

But in the morning Byers didn't seem to want to talk about it at all. His demeanor was strange, of a sort of forced manic optimism, talking incessantly of this and that as if he was afraid to leave a vulnerable gap in the conversation. He refused Langly's offer to tend to his injuries, and brushed off any attempts to discuss the details of his visit to his parents. He insisted on getting straight back to work, saying merely that he had paid a high price for the information and he was going to get all he could.

By the evening Langly had made up his mind that he had to have it out with Byers. A quiet word with Frohike, who was also obviously worried but had sensibly kept quiet, ensured Frohike's early departure on a ". . . night out. See you tomorrow, boys" leaving them alone.

Round about supper time, Langly made coffee and brought it back to the living room. "John, we've got to talk about yesterday."

"There's really nothing to discuss, Langly. I did what was for the best, and Cancer Man can't stop us going on digging. I'm not going to let him stop us."

"But your father . . ."

". . .would have found out sooner or later. Things haven't been right between us for a long time, Langly. He's never been able to come to terms with what I do. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

"So . . . what did he say?"

Byers turned away and stared across the room. There was a long silence, and when Byers answered his voice was just above a whisper. His fists were clenched, and his shoulders tense and hunched as Langly had ever seen them.

"Filthy little faggot . . . pervert . . . sodomite . . . was about the best of it."

Langly moved across to stand behind him, and touched him on the shoulder. He started to speak but Byers cut him off.

"I've never been good enough for him . . anything I ever did, it was never good enough. Christ, I tried so hard . . . God . . . I wanted to get right up and hit him back . . ."

And Byers pulled away and walked quickly off in the direction of the sleeping quarters. Langly looked after him, then sighed and started to close operations down for the night. He switched out the light, and headed in the direction of the bathroom.

**********************************************************

Langly turned as the bathroom door was pushed open behind him. John stood there, wearing only his bathrobe loose over his pyjama pants, his chest bare. His face looked flushed and his eyes bright. He came up behind Langly and slid an arm round his waist, breathing in Langly's ear. "Come to bed."

"Are you sure? Aren't you still sore?"

"No, I'm OK. Are you coming?"

And he tugged at Langly's shoulders to make him turn and face him, and kissed him hard on the mouth, pressing his body against him, one hand sliding down Langly's back and gripping his ass. "I need you Langly. I need you right now."

Langly was surprised. This wasn't John's usual behaviour, but he allowed Byers to drag him into the bedroom and acquiesced with rising excitement as his friend started to tear determinedly at his clothes. "Easy, John, easy . . . but Byers seemed oblivious, pushing Langly towards the bed with a muttered "Come on", then pulling Langly down on the bed on top of him.

They rolled together on the bed, wriggling out of the rest of their clothes until they were naked together. Byers pulled him closer still, sliding one hand down his body and squeezing his cock. Langly yelped and thrust instinctively, pushing Byers on to his back and rolling on top of him, and they grappled together, hips thrusting, kissing and biting each other frantically. Langly was astonished; he had never seen Byers so wantonly demanding, and it was turning him on like never before. He was already painfully hard. He managed to gasp: "Going all feral on me John?"

"Just do it . . or do I have to go out and find someone else?"

Then Byers lunged forward and bit Langly hard on the ear. Langly gasped as he realised what Byers wanted. This was a signal that he wanted it quick and hard and raw, and he immediately rolled over as Langly fumbled with the lube. Then Langly came down hard on his back, pushing his lube-covered fingers into him briefly before pulling them out and shoving back in roughly with his cock.

This was a brutal animal coupling, hard and fast and basic, punctuated only by Langly's grunts of effort as he thrust in savagely, and Byers' moans of anguished desire. Then Byers came with a hoarse scream, shuddering and convulsing under Langly and setting him off also, plunging forward to fasten his teeth on the back of Byers' neck as he shot into him with one final fierce thrust. They collapsed onto the bed together, gasping and clutching at each other.

When their breathing had slowed somewhat, Langly leaned forward and nuzzled John on the back of the neck. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah . . . God, I needed that."

"Mm . . . getting back at your Dad, yeah?"

"What do you mean?"

"C'mon John, I know you. You were thinking all the time, what if your Dad could see you doing that."

"Yeah, I know. It's just . . . .I was angry. I thought, if I'm really half the things he called me - maybe I should act like it."

"Okay - but just with me, all right?"

Byers didn't answer and Langly continued after a moment.

"You've got to forget what he said, John. You're not responsible to him any more. You can't live your life being what he wants you to be."

"I know."

Langly let out a long breath and turned his cheek against Byers' hair. "Forget it. Please, John? I love you."

"I know. Langly . . . you know, Cancer Man never meant to give me that 24 hours. I think he just wanted to cause trouble. Cause pain."

Byers turned to get comfortable in Langly's arms, settling his head against his friend's chest. Nothing would induce him to tell Langly what his father had really said, especially the things he had said about Langly.

Langly put his arms round him, and eventually Byers slept, his weight gradually settling against his friend as he relaxed. But Langly stayed awake, the faint light from the window shining in his open eyes, long into the night.

END

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